


Not a Soul

by bookstorequeer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Deal with a Devil, Gen, Humor, Magic, Prompt Fill, Summoning, Summoning Circles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 09:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookstorequeer/pseuds/bookstorequeer
Summary: What if you manage to summon a demon but nobody wants your soul?





	Not a Soul

**Author's Note:**

> The writing prompt was:  
Due to inflation the value of a single human soul has dramatically decreased over the millennia, and the devil is sick of explaining to amateur summoners that no, they cannot buy immortality for their souls anymore.
> 
> which can be found here: [Writing Prompts Reddit Community](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/dinuju/wp_due_to_inflation_the_value_of_a_single_human/f403n9h/)

"Look," is the sigh, tired because the devil is out of practice at being summoned. The necessary names for calling the big boss should be missing from all but the most dedicated libraries, where they should know better than to try. "I don't know how else to explain this to you."

"I just --"

"Yeah, I know. You want a promotion, or for that one hot person to want you, or... or whatever it is."

The summoner's eyes widen as deviled feet step easily out of the chalk circle. The books say that shouldn't be possible but the books don't account for The DevilTM. The arm slung around trembling shoulders is almost too hot to touch.

“But, see, here's the thing.”

An arm flung wide throws open the heavy drapes but beyond the glass isn't a familiar lawn. The summoner has never seen those steppes of brimstone and fire; there used to be a driveway and a three year used Prius.

“You said you wanted... what was it, again?”

“To live forever.”

“Right.”

A nod has curved horns brushing against the summoner's temple and leaves an ache that will turn into a burn.

“That's where the problem is.” The devil stares out over their domain. “We have more souls than we really need as it is, and they're walking themselves in.”

“But--” The summoner starts to protest but the devil's finger is hot against their lips.

“I wouldn't take your soul if you wanted to give it to me for free.”

The summoner sputters indignantly, sure, like always, that their soul must be worth more than average. The devil has heard it all – clean living, a thousand Hail Mary's, charity work, a recent change of heart. None of it makes a difference when souls are a dime a dozen, a hundred, a million. The last thing Hell needs is more work.

“Besides, if you never die then I'd never get... your... soul.” The devil hums thoughtfully. “Actually, that might just work.”

“Wait, really?”

There's a growing light in tired, dark eyes.

“Yeah. You promise not to die in, like, a skiing accident or something?”

“I don't even know how to ski.”

“Okay, then deal.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yep.” The devil's lips are hot as they brush over the summoner's forehead. The mark flares before fading to embers that only a select few will see.

“So I'm...?”

“Immortal. Yep.” The devil's grin is sudden and entirely too toothy. With a wave, the chalk circle flares again and the ruler of Hell steps back inside. “No backsies!”

“Wait...what?”

The entire room will smell like burnt stone for weeks afterwards and the summoner will never really be able to explain that. After a while and a few moves, people will stop asking why the couch leaves everything tasting of smoke because the summoner will stop inviting people in.


End file.
